


Seth-Style

by orphan_account



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth sees that Meechum is miserable.  As always, Seth has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Mrs_Don_Draper and SubwayWolf for writing such delicious Seth-centered stories that have inspired this little offering.

“It’s sad, really,” whispers Seth, sidling up to Meechum, a man too busy watching President Underwood laughing with Tom Yates to notice the Director of Communication’s arrival.

“What?” asks Meechum, who frowns miserably as Yates places his hand on Underwood’s knee as he leans closer to tell another amusing anecdote from his checkered past.

“That he’s wasting time on scum like Yates when he’s already got you,” observes Seth. “Stupid, really.”

Seth expected a rebuttal, just not one that lands him on the floor, rubbing his aching jaw. But he isn’t surprised when Meechum sighs, extending a hand to pull him back on his feet again – Meechum’s that kind of guy, a saint. Underwood _is_ stupid, Seth thinks, murmuring a brief apology and an even briefer ‘thanks’ as he brushes off his suit. At least, now, he’s got the lanky bodyguard’s attention.

“If I were your, uh, go-to guy,” Seth continues, because let’s face it, no one on the President’s staff is has time or emotional maturity to be boyfriend material, “I’d make sure you were taken care of.”

Seth is close enough to hear Meechum's breath hitch, to hear the tiny miserable moan that escapes as Underwood and Yates drift boozily towards the upstairs study, arm in arm.  The study, Seth has discovered using his carefully honed powers of observation, is the President’s oasis, the room he likes to take Meechum to on rare nights when he has an itch to scratch.

“I’d take such good care of you,” Seth reiterates, grinning boyishly when the message sinks in and Meechum turns to look at him with frank speculation.

“That so?”

Seth ducks his head, a little to the side as his grin widens. “Does he ever ask what you want?” he wheedles. “See, I think Underwood’s a classic bottom. Lots of powerful men are: CEOs, generals, judges. They need a hard pounding to make their worries melt away. I think he takes it for granted that you want to slip him your dick. I’ll bet he’s never asked what you need.”

Soundlessly, Meechum maneuvers them into the shadows, placing his hands on the wall on either side of Seth’s head, trapping the shorter man though an inch of warming air separates their bodies.

“What do you think I need?”

“I think you need a deep dicking,” admits Seth, licking his lips. “I think you’d like to be taken apart; have your asshole stretched tight around something that isn’t made out of silicon. I think you need to have nine thick inches of cock, balls deep inside of you, pounding long and hard enough so that you forget about Underwood and Tom Yates.”

Seth takes Meechum’s hand, coaxes it so that it rests atop an impressive erection. “I can give it to you, Eddie. I can give it to you as much as you could ever want and I won’t mind that it’s Underwood that you’re thinking about as you come.”

Meechum’s ramrod posture relaxes, shoulders loosening as he gives Seth’s dick as thorough an inspection as one can with boxers and trousers in the way. “I’m off duty in fifteen minutes.”

“I..I know,” stammers Seth, Meechum already reaching for his zipper.


	2. Chapter 2

Francis Underwood isn’t the prettiest man Edward’s ever met, nor is he tall nor particularly muscular but the President’s by far the most commanding, aphrodisiac enough for the quiet Secret Service Agent, who additionally finds his eyes lingering on the man's pleasantly squared shoulders, deep chest and bumper-like ass that's taken quiete a pounding these last few years. That ass, Edward contemplates, is so hot and tight that it should be enough. Right? Who needs a hard dicking when they can come in Francis's soft, welcoming mouth, besides? Edward might have remained content enough, will to remain in the holding pattern - a top to Francis' s greedy bottom. But now Seth has come along, strong and pushy and alike enough to Francis, physically at least, so that Edward, who insists on turning off the lights, can pretend that it's the President’s rigid dick that pumping him from behind.

"Jesus, " Edward swears, beads of sweat rolling down his back as pre-come oozes from his slit; Seth knowns exactly which angle to take as he stuffs his coke-can thickness in with slow, deliberate strokes that hit Edward’s prostate with admirable precision. "Faster!"

"You know what I need," Seth counters, stopping, midthrust.

"Faster, President Underwood! Harder, Sir, please! "

Chuckling, Seth starts again, grinding rough against Edward’s pert buttocks, that is until a third party clears his throat, flipping on the small lamp on Seth’s office desk.

"Don't let me stop you," Francis Underwood proclaims softly, returning to the spot where he’s been leaning, arms crossed, watching with furious intent.


End file.
